


A Shepherd’s Plea and a Fairy’s Fury

by AmyNChan



Category: Peter Pan - Fandom
Genre: Just Something Fun, kinda silly, used it as an assignment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 08:56:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13096722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyNChan/pseuds/AmyNChan
Summary: Peter's having a hard time convincing Tink of his new idea...





	A Shepherd’s Plea and a Fairy’s Fury

There is a place, far into the sky, where it is said that time stands still and everything is perfect at every moment of the day.  The waters are clear and bright, the sky is always sunny, the trees are evergreen.  It is said that mythical creatures and fantasy exist there, with beautiful mermaids and fanciful fairies, rugged pirates and proud Indians.  Everything in this place exists in a strange sort of harmony, happy to coexist.

Most of the time.

“Come on, Tink, there ain’t no harm in it!” called Peter Pan, his grin never leaving his face.  “It’ll be fun, you’ll see!”

A boyish flyer forever, Peter Pan sported a shock of red hair and freckles that speckled his nose.  His green eyes twinkled in delight as he swooped through the air, leaving a green afterimage to trail behind him.  Some would assume him to be some sort of supernatural creature, a prepubescent poltergeist, a trickster of the air and sky, or perhaps even a fairy.

But no.  That honor specifically was reserved for his companion.

A series of chimes sounded off at Peter’s side, a golden glow pulsating with irritation. Peter’s face drew into a frown.

“Aw, come on, Tink.  Don’t be like that,” tried the boy once more.  His friend, however, would have none of Peter’s pleading.

Tinkerbelle was a fairy and the only friend Peter had ever known.  While her body may fit into the palm of his hand, her stubbornness could probably stretch to encompass the entirety of Neverland.  Many a time, she was happy to go along with most anything the boy had in mind, but this was an instance where she put her foot down.

She chimed her displeasure once more.

“Look, Tink, even Neverland agrees with me,” said Peter, trying a new angle.  “Sun’s out, fields are clear—look!  Even the trees say this is a good day as any!”

Tinkerbelle frowned. Another chime.

“Look, look!  When we’re done, we could head to the lagoon, sit on some rocks.”  Peter flew higher into the sky, hoping to find something, anything really, that would convince his friend.  “They should be nice and warm today.  Maybe talk to the mermaids?  I wonder if they’ve got any fish going…”

Tinkerbelle rolled her eyes.  His distraction attempts wouldn’t work.  Not this time.

While she glared at Peter with a narrowed gaze, she didn’t notice a sparrow flying around.  Not until it knocked her off-balance, nearly tossing her out of the air in its attempt to feed itself.  Peter, however, didn’t seem to notice her plight when she set loose a stream of angry cursing chimes.  Instead, the birds and their presence seemed to please him, his laughter accompanying their song like an unintentional and beautiful harmony.

“Look!  Even the birds agree with me!  It’s as good a day as any!”

She remained unimpressed.  When she finally got her bearings and started to tap her foot, Peter only shrugged and looked away.  He needed  _something_  to convince her.

Spotting something, Peter took to a nosedive towards the island.  Tinkerbelle scrambled to keep up.  When she found him, he was spinning lazy circles over one of the many open fields.

“Come on, Tink, what boy wouldn’t love to run through this?” pressed Peter.  He reached a hand out and grabbed a fist full of flowers.  “Roses, whatever these are, dandelions—hey, hey!  Check it out!  Sticks and mud!”

Peter thrust his fist towards Tinkerbelle, who merely looked over the bunch with a raised eyebrow and defined frown.  It would be rare for Peter to find the one boy would love to run through flowers—well, maybe some little boy would love to throw himself into a pile of sticks and mud—but she knew he did not think he would.  Peter was only trying to appeal to her to make his argument.  Instead, she made several curious chimes, daring Peter to find an answer for her question.

“Oh… um…”  Peter floundered for an answer, his gaze darting about in order to find anything that could help him.  Tinkerbelle watched as he raced from the air to the ground, then returned quickly.  His prize sent both eyebrows shooting into the air.

“Baaa…”

The innocent lamb looked particularly unperturbed at being held several yards into the air, munching on whatever straw it had snagged before Peter had snagged it.  Maybe the lamb was used to being picked up and dropped anywhere and everywhere.  One of Peter’s games for when he was especially bored.

“We could make shirts from this!”  exclaimed Peter, his smile returning full-force.  “It’s wool, isn’t it?  And you made my outfit, so it can’t be  _so_  hard, right?”

A disturbance in the force was felt.  Peter edged away slowly, chuckling as he nervously returned the sheep to the ground.  It intelligently fled.  Peter?  Not so much.

“Okay, so what if…” Peter looked around again.  Spotted another item.  Dove for it and came back.  “What if we used these for shoes?”

They were leaf boats.  Not particularly sturdy and fell limp in the boy’s hands.  Tinkerbelle got the distinct feeling he was not even trying anymore, just using whatever he could find to try and convince her.

“Hey look!  Straws for belts!  That would work, right?”

“Look at this, they could eat this if they wanted, right?”

“Come on, Tink!  This place is  _paradise_!  Who wouldn’t want to live here?”

“Tinkerbelle, pleeease!  You can’t let me live like this forever!”

Tinkerbelle sighed and rubbed her head.  Ever since Peter had come up with the idea to gather a child from the Earth and bring them here to Neverland, she had been keeping her pixie dust to herself.  There were  _several_  reasons why bringing a human child to this pace was a  _bad idea_.

First, she pointed towards Peter, then in the direction of the scampering sheep.  Her frown and several chimes were enough to make Peter understand.

“I’m an excellent guardian,” rebuked the boy.  “They don’t get hurt!”

Tinkerbelle shot him a look.

“Much,” amended he.  Tinkerbelle nodded, but knew he would not let it go, so she began to lead him towards the waterfalls.  While they were beautiful, the sharp rocks at the bottom left much to be desired, and could easily kill anyone who was not careful.

“So we’ll keep ‘em away from the waterfalls until they know better,” said Peter, but Tinkerbelle was already on the move again.  She flew towards a very beautiful rose and uprooted it, using her magic to enhance the effects for Peter to see.  Without its steady supply of nutrients, even the rose’s sturdy thorns withered away to die.  She threw it towards Peter, who had grown pale.

Funny how quickly he forgot that a fairy could stop time  _and_  speed it up.

Peter followed her as she allowed the passage of time for some of the trees, which withered and died; on the river, the bubbling brook quickly turning to roaring rapids; on a portion of the sky, which rapidly gained clouds and unfurled a small winter’s breeze upon the mermaids.  Unknowing of the sudden threat against them, the mermaids scrambled around for some sort of shelter from nature’s assailant that was freezing their gills and threatening to kill.

Tinkerbelle pushed time forward again until spring had come back around, saving the trees, the river, and the merfolk.  She turned back towards Peter, whose eternal grin had died a little.

Tinkerbelle chimed in soft pity.  Perhaps if she could guarantee the safety of any children in Neverland, they’d revisit the subject.  Yet with Neverland’s survival resting on her ability to halt time and no backup plan in store, there would be no newcomers to their realm.  It was a chance they couldn’t take.  The fairy hoped Peter understood that.

After a while, she thought he did.

One day after the thought entered her mind, it was clear he didn’t.

“Hey, Tink!  Meet James!”

Her rage was felt for weeks.

(Or would have, if she let time move on.)

[She didn’t.]

**Author's Note:**

> This was a work that was supposed to be based on the works [A Passionate Shepherd to His Love](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44675/the-passionate-shepherd-to-his-love) and [The Nymph's Reply to The Shepherd](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44939/the-nymphs-reply-to-the-shepherd) with a little bit of [The Flea](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46467/the-flea) at the end (when Peter goes off and does what he wants anyways. X'D) I wanted to wait until I had a grade on it before posting it online, so here we go! *^_^* Hope y'all enjoyed!


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